


The Blood of Our Covenant

by jackabee



Series: Forgestuck [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Gen, Obnoxious Family Gatherings, POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Twelfth Perigee's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabee/pseuds/jackabee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Sebastian. You are almost three years old, you are a Prince – so you’ve been told – and today is the day your giant family is coming to see you and give you presents. As Papa would say, fuck yeah, presents. As Mama would say, not in front of Seb, please.</p>
<p>Set about two and a half years after Of Scattered Ashes, the little son of Queen Jane and King Dirk sets down his judgment on a very special present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood of Our Covenant

Your name is Sebastian. You are almost three years old, you are a Prince – so you’ve been told – and today is the day your giant family is coming to see you and give you presents. As Papa would say, fuck yeah, presents. As Mama would say, not in front of Seb, please.

You live in a very big house with your Mama and Papa, and lately it’s been cold and drafty despite the many fireplaces and furnaces lit day and night to warm it. White stuff – _snow_ , you remind yourself – has piled up on the ground over the last few days, and Mama won’t let you play outside without your warmest clothes and a coat and scarf and gloves and big, heavy boots that really suck to walk in, so you prefer watching the snow instead of going in it. Not that there’s much to watch. White stuff falls from the sky, covers everything, people trudge back and forth to your house and leave deep, long lines of footprints, the white stuff fills them in. Today there’s been a break in the weather, and the sun’s glare on the snow hurts your eyes even with your special spectacles on, so you watch the people in your house instead.

You’re not sure who they are exactly, since they’re not family, but they’re nice to you and don’t tell Mama or Papa when you sneak a cookie before dinner, so you like them alright. There are more people than usual today, and they’ve thrown themselves into the biggest frenzy you’ve ever seen. A huge evergreen tree seems to have sprouted in the big room downstairs overnight, and dusty old crates are stacked everywhere, filled with the weirdest decorations you’ve ever seen. (You know about decorations. Mama and Papa put them everywhere themselves on your birthday, and as for daily ones, they love to argue about them:

“Jane, let’s see if Duke Hoe Flinger would sell us that rad-ass painting of his grandpa’s derp horse and hang it in the throne room.”

“Absolutely not!!!”)

Anyway. These decorations adorn the tree moreso than berries on a bush, quickly bringing all colors of the rainbow to its boughs. There’s glitter and bows and shiny things everywhere, and you take a moment to peer at yourself in a particularly reflective dangly thing. Your white hair is still mussed from sleep, your eyes like chips of pink pearl wide and inquisitive, a redness to your dusky cheeks still lingering from the warmth of your bed. You hum softly and move on. You’re a little man on a mission, as Papa would say. Breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day, as Mama would say. It made sense that it warranted a mission.

When you reach the kitchens, though, you are shooed out by more of the nice people, apologetic and bowing as they escort you back upstairs. We’re so sorry, Your Highness. Do forgive us, Your Highness. Twelfth Perigee’s Eve preparations take all day, Your Highness.

Oh. So that’s what this was all for?

…But what even _was_ Twelfth Perigee’s Eve? Was that why your family was coming to bring you presents?

Your frown earns a promise of breakfast once everyone has arrived, and you begrudgingly accept it. Wasn’t like you could cook on your own anyway; Mama gets nervous when you get too close to the stove while she’s baking. With resignation you allow the people to herd you into the big room, and then you go back upstairs by yourself, keeping each step slow and deliberate. If you act sad enough, the people will fry the remainder of last night’s flatbreads in egg and cinnamon and vanilla, and they’ll even bring honey for you to pour on it, this you know from experience. That shit was the best food in the world, second to carrots.

Damn, maybe they’d give you both that _and_ carrots for breakfast.

You enter the room in your usual manner, slow and quiet with only the creaking of the door to signal your arrival. Papa is up, and he turns away from the bedroom mirror to meet your gaze. His special spectacles are nowhere in sight. Mama is still in bed, a tuft of her hair visible at the end of the lump under the blanket.

“Hey little dude,” Papa says, and you tear your eyes from Mama to toddle to his side. You come up to his mid thigh, and he reaches down to ruffle your hair with ease. “You get your nom on?”

He meets the dissatisfied expression on your face with a stoic nod.

“Ah, I see. So what’re they cooking, anyway?”

A shrug.

“Dunno for sure, huh. Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your eggy bread. Today’s special enough to warrant it.” He combs your hair with his fingers, parting it on the side, and then he ruffles it up to begin the process over again. “Shit, I hope they have enough for everybody. A bird woke me up, like, ten minutes ago with a message from Uncle Dave. We can at least expect my side of the crazy train to turn up in the next hour, and I know your Mama’s can’t be far behind.”

With one final pat he lifts you up into his arms, carrying you to the wardrobe where your clothes already hang. “Well, might as well boss you up. It’s gonna be one hell of a day.”

He proceeds to dress you in what Mama calls your “Prince Clothes”. They’re the same color of your eyes, slippery and shiny and covered in a raised pattern. In these, you are expressly forbidden to get into any mischief in fear of ruining them, and you adhere to that strictly, especially after the look of horror Aunt Kanaya gave you after the Pumpkin Incident.

What was the Pumpkin Incident?

You’d…rather not say.

Papa straightens your spectacles just as you hear Mama stir in bed, and in a flash you clamor up beside her. Papa has a little smile on his face as he watches you from afar, snuggling under the covers to be the first thing Mama sees today.

Her eyes open, and though she’s sleepy she can still recognize you anywhere. Her hands slide over to wrap you in a hug. “Oh, Seb,” She says, her voice creaky, “Good morning, my Lil’ Sebastian…” She leans over to kiss your nose, and you scrunch your eyes closed and grin wide. You hear Papa’s footsteps as he approaches the bed and sits on the edge, looking at you and Mama as if you were made of the most precious things.

“Happy Twelfth,” He says. Mama’s gaze flickers up to him.

“…Oh, it’s the…it’s today, isn’t it?”

“Are you joking with me or did you honestly forget?” Papa asks. “I’m leaning towards the former. We’re not senile yet.”

Mama laughs. You like her laugh so much. Casually, you parrot it back and wiggle closer, and it makes her laugh again.

“Forgive me if the first decent sleep I’ve had in weeks leaves me drowsy,” She says, and you relish the rumble of her voice in her throat and the thump of her heart in her chest. Your parents’ chatter quickly fades into a quiet droning as you focus on the sounds of your Mama living. They’re strange and unusual, and yet so familiar, like a song you heard so long ago, and while the words never stuck, the melody lingers in the back of your mind, constant and beautiful.

But…today is odd.

There’s something about you that tends to know things about other people, things that send them running to the doctor. Mama says it is Life, and it is special to the two of you alone, and it must be used for good. You’re not sure what exactly counts as good, but when one of the people who helps out in your house has a sick body, you make sure to tell them. Someday, Mama says you could even make people all better yourself, but you’re pretty sure you’d have to be a doctor to do that.

Anyway. Today is odd because here, snuggled up against Mama, you have a funny feeling about her, but it’s nothing like as if she had a sick body. Everything feels great – better than great, practically glowing with health – but there’s something…more to it, something new. You wiggle further under the covers, blocking out your parents entirely to focus on it. It’s possible that Papa faintly calls your name, but you ignore him, your hands resting on her tummy. That’s where the feeling is coming from, nothing like if she were hungry or sick or hurt…just…special.

Mama’s hands find you just as a cold draft wafts up against your back, Papa lifting the covers to investigate. All at once the feeling fades to a tiny blip on your awareness, and you frown up at your parents.

“…Seb?” Papa asks. “The fuck, little dude?”

“ _Language!_ ” Mama hisses. You clear your throat with a soft cough.

“Present?”

The look your parents give you is nothing short of stupefied. When you talk, it’s only when you want to be sure others listen, and you keep things short and sweet. You pat Mama’s tummy.

“Here. Present? For me?”

Of course you think it’s a present. It’s special, and your first time ever encountering it is on a present day. What else would it be?

Papa is still confused, if the narrowing of his eyes indicates anything, but Mama’s widen after a moment, and she clasps her hand over yours. There’s a flare of something in her, searching, looking, until it finds the good feeling in her tummy and curls protectively around it.

“Oh…!” Her face turns red, but she smiles and sits up, pulling you with her as Papa properly enters the bed. “Oh, goodness me – you’re something else, Sebastian, you really are! That’s no fair, getting a leg up on your Mama like that – oh, geez, even if it were a present we couldn’t keep it from you with such keenness, could we?”

“Jane, what present is he…” Papa pauses. He’s noticed yours and Mama’s hands on her middle, and you see his temple twitch as he thinks, realization slow to dawn on him. His hands shake. “Oh. Oh, fuck. Oh my God. You’re…”

Mama smiles sheepishly and nods. “Pregnant, it seems. Yes.”

Papa’s hands run themselves through his hair for want of something to do. “And he…and you…just _now_?”

“Well it typically doesn’t happen _instantly_ ,” She says. There’s tears beading at the corners of her eyes, and a thrill of panic runs through you. Instantly you reach up to wipe the wetness away. “We’ve been trying for weeks now…to do this on our own terms. Are you really surprised it’s happened, and that our son noticed? When he’s picked up on illness and injury so many times before, why would a pregnancy be any different?” He just stares at Mama, slack jawed, while you roll this new word around in your mind. Pregnant. Was that what the good feeling was? If so, then you decide that it’s wonderful to feel it in Mama.

Suddenly, Papa swoops in. He’s got the two of you in a tight hug, and Mama laughs so hard and you bask in their warmth. “Holy shit,” Papa says, “Holy shit, _Jane_ , holy _shit_ …on the fucking Twelfth Perigee too, high and holy shit!” For the first time you can remember, Mama doesn’t chide Papa for his bad words, and when he pulls back, he’s looking at you with a kind of beaming joy, as if he’d gotten a wonderful gift. So, wait, was this good thing for Papa and not for you? Or was it for the both of you – or the three of you? Were you going to share it?

“Seb,” He says, euphoria cracking any pretense of composure, “Looks like you’re getting a baby bro or sis!”

…Wait a second.

A baby bro or sis? So…you’re getting a baby present?

“ _Today?_ ”

The giggle fit you send Mama and Papa into has no purpose and, frankly, is somewhat insulting to your intelligence. But, then again, perhaps they know a bit more about these things than you do. After all, you’re only almost three.

~*~

Your parents tell you not to let your aunts and uncles know about your present. It’s far too early, Mama says. It’s bad fucking juju, Papa says.

Uncle John and Uncle Dave choke on their drinks when you announce it to everyone over a late breakfast, once everybody has arrived. (You’ve forgiven the absence of carrots for the abundance of eggy bread.) The rest are just…perturbed, to varying degrees, sitting around the big table in the big room as the decorated tree looms above. If you rarely speak around your parents, then it’s a blue fuckdamn moon for them to hear you. Hah, they look like you just completely rocked their world. Awesome.

…Oh. Mama and Papa do not look like their world was rocked at all. You find yourself hunching a little as you retreat to your eggy bread, nibbling at it with as much feigned intense interest as you can muster.

“What a turn of events,” Aunt Rose says. She’s got her hands around the biggest mug of tea you’ve ever seen. “Not that it’s unwelcome. Do tell, was this a happy accident or have you been planning this?”

Papa stares stonily back at your aunt, whose grin seems like it could curl at the ends. “It was planned. And it’s all Art-free, we made sure of that. No outside influences, just two people boinking like it’s the end of the world.”

The flush on Mama’s face is amazing. “ _Dirk!!!_ It didn’t…it’s not like that at all!!!! Honestly, sharing what we do in our own private time is completely unnecessary-”

“-And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t taint our collective pans with the image of you two human pailing, anyway” Uncle Karkat says. He stands up from his chair, his voice loud and edging on uncomfortable. “Not that either of you look like the hemorrhaging ass of a pustule-blighted oinkbeast, but that’s really not what I want to associate my memories of this holiday with until the end of existence. And you know, this might be a wild guess, but I’m pretty sure no one else wants to, either.”

Wow. You’d forgotten all the big words Uncle Karkat knows. You’d even forgotten how animated he gets when he talks, his hands gesturing in all sorts of ways that must mean something in addition to his speech. Maybe he’ll teach you to do that when you’re older.

“I’m not opposed by the idea,” Aunt Terezi says. She’s raised her special cane up into the air, letting the dragon head on its top lull back and forth. “I’m sure the story is nothing I haven’t seen by rooting in your memories anyway.” Her mouth lifts upward into a grin of razors. “You know. Because I’ve done that. At your request.”

“Please don’t remind us,” Mama says. Aunt Terezi laughs.

There’s a lazy, sleepy honk from across the table. Uncle Gamzee is half sprawled on its surface, one cheek smushed on the wood. “I wanna hear about the up and comin’ miracle wiggler,” He says, and snorts at Aunt Terezi’s aghast expression. “Yeah, me ‘n Terecita agreein’ on any motherfuckin’ thing is like…straight up rarer than lusus-colored Fiduspawn beasts. But I ain’t no troll of the cloth if I ain’t down for any sorts of miracles. You all feelin’ me?” He lifts his head from the table, leaving being a smudge of his special face paint, to plop it in Uncle Karkat’s lap. “Karbro, you _gotta_ be feelin’ me on this.”

Uncle Karkat has his face in his hands. “Fuck me sideways on a wheat nutrition wafer. No, Gamzee, I’m really not.”

The honks that followed were almost like whining. Uncle Karkat paps Uncle Gamzee to quiet him as Uncle Jake clears his throat. “Ah, well, since we seem to be divided on the subject, what say you chaps to a vote?”

Aunt Jade wrinkles her nose at him. “Do you really want to-”

“I’m just thinking that it’s the most fair thing to do, Jade, whether I want to hear about it or not.” He sends Mama and Papa a sheepish smile, the both of them beet red. “If I may be frank with you, I think it’s much better to keep such things under wraps, but unless we decide on it as a group I doubt we’ll hear the end of it.”

A hand slams down on the table as Uncle Dave stands up. “Jake, I’m gonna be Hank with you, since I don’t like the name Frank. No one in their right mind wants to hear the specifics of my Bro’s sideways tango adventures, so clearly Karkat is the only troll at this table in his right mind.”

“Thanks,” Uncle Karkat deadpans.

“Don’t mention it, dude.” Uncle Dave pauses, pushing away from the table. “Besides, we can’t just make everyone vote. If Bro and Jane want to lay down the law on our asses, they can do that.” He looks at Papa. “They _should_ do that.”

It was fair to say that all this back and forth had taken the heat off of you, so you don’t feel bad sneaking a peek at Mama and Papa. They’re still red, Mama gnawing at her bottom lip and Papa quite impassive. “It’s…up to you, Jane,” Papa says at last, “I don’t mind telling the story, but if you mind…”

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “If it’ll get everyone to calm down, I…suppose it’s a necessary evil. We don’t need to vote.”

The mixture of groans and laughter around you is strangely satisfying. You help yourself to another piece of eggy bread and slather it with honey. This is gonna be one hell of a show.

Papa stands, a hand resting on Mama’s shoulder. “It was about a month ago,” He starts, “Autumn was getting ready to wind down, the air was a little more than crisp, and after three days straight of rain, we finally had blue skies and sunshine and all that wonderful goodness that makes a dude and a lady grateful for being alive.”

You can hear Uncle Sollux chortling under his breath. “Oh _shit_ , AA,” He whispers to Aunt Aradia, “He’th going into full thtoryteller mode.”

“We had just put Seb down for a nap,” He continues, ignoring the quip, “And thought, hey, naps are pretty awesome. You tired, Jane? Yeah, Dirk, I’m tired. Let’s get our nap on, too. But for some reason we couldn’t really fall asleep, so we just sort of loafed around in bed and talked about nothing, like you do.”

“Do you really?” Aunt Kanaya asks. “Rose and I always have our most engaging discussions while in the human bed-”

“I’m getting to the engaging stuff, Kanaya,” Papa says. You think he shivers a little at Aunt Rose’s smug expression. “Not everyone uses troll Jane Austen as foreplay. Anyway. We happened to fall on the topic of kids, and decided, hey, let’s try for another one. It’d been a while since we’d caught the pungent whiff of a dirty nappy, or heard the midnight cry of a babe craving mad amounts of milk. We both kind of missed it.”

Aunt Roxy’s gasp is something you love to hear, because it’s never without this airy sort of drama and theatrics that is unique to her alone. “ _Homigosh_. Just like that? No way, Dirky, that’s way too serious a thing to just say okie dokes to!”

Mama shrugs, her head still down. “That’s just how it happen, Roxy. Really, neither of us ended up making a big to-do about deciding.”

“That’s right,” Papa adds. “It was actually doing the do that was worth a big to-do.” Some of your aunts and uncles giggle. The others turn pale. You chew on your eggy bread and wonder why Papa said so many ‘do’s, and what exactly they mean in this case. “And I’m sorry, John, but one of your coats made a valiant sacrifice in the name of procreation.”

Uncle John stares blankly at Papa. He hasn’t touched his drink since you made your announcement, as if someone would say something else that would make him choke worse. “ _What_.”

“In times of great need, there are those who must put their lives on the line for the benefit of all. Don’t get me wrong, your coat couldn’t have done a more fantastic job, it really completed the illusion – though the ‘stache really made it, Jane, you gotta admit that-”

“Admit it? You begged me to keep that thing on!”

“Well you didn’t refuse-”

“ _What_ did you do to my coat?” Uncle John asks. Mama and Papa share a nervous glance.

“We didn’t… _do_ anything _to_ it, per say,” Mama begins.

“We did the do _in_ it,” Papa finishes.

The face Uncle John makes is priceless, and is forever ingrained in your memory. “Oh my God!!” He exclaims as the others gasp around him. He leaps to his feet and flails. “Ew!!! That’s gross, why would you – _why?!?_ ”

Mama looks sorry, so sorry, but at the same time she’s fighting back giggles, her mouth is quirked up and there’s a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. “As Dirk put it to me when we began,” She says, “His equipment and his feelings for me happen to be mutually exclusive. It’s not his fault or my own, that’s just how he works, and we needed to figure out a way around it. If playing dress-up is necessary, then by golly, I leave the mustache on.”

Aunt Aradia leans over to Uncle Sollux, her salt and pepper hair shifting to cover her face. “I’m really glad no one important is around to hear that,” She whispers, “Humans get really cranky over that sort of stuff.”

“I knoooow,” Uncle Sollux whispers back, “It’th weeeiird.”

With a groan, Uncle John flops back into his seat and lets his head thud onto the table. “Oh God,” He says, “I can’t wear any of the clothes I’ve left here ever again. Never. I’ve got to burn them all. That is _so_ nasty.”

“They only mentioned your coat, John,” Aunt Jade says, prodding him lightly, “I bet your other stuff is fine.”

“No, it’s the principle of the thing. I’m making a statement. It will be a thing that happens.”

You’re fairly certain Aunt Jade calls him a baby under her breath as Aunt Kanaya leans forward. “So once you figured out how to go about the human pailing ritual…then what?”

“Then nothing,” Mama says. “We didn’t invoke any help from Life in the slightest, just…tried it out when Sebastian was preoccupied. It took some time, but I just felt the results today, thanks to Seb’s observations, so I definitely cannot be far along at all, but…it’s on its way.”

Papa sits down after that, and your aunts and uncles fall into a hush. They were taking it all in, though why there was so much pomp and circumstance you don’t know. So Mama played dress-up with Papa, did ‘the do’, and now you’re getting a baby present. Was that really such a big deal?

“Baby present,” You say through a mouthful of eggy bread. All eyes turn to you, and you swallow in weary resignation. They expect you to keep going, don’t they? “Good baby present…I love baby present.”

Your words make Mama smile, and she gets up to come over to you, plucking you out of your chair and kissing your face, not minding how sticky it is with honey. “Yes, Sebastian,” She says, “It’s a good baby present, however he or she comes to be. I agree with you.” You yawn in agreement and nuzzle your head against Mama’s chest, taking solace in her heartbeat and the good feeling that rolls off of her in waves. When Papa’s strong arms encircle you both, you don’t think it can get any better…

…And then, slowly, your aunts and uncles, each so strange and funny and interesting in their own ways, get up to join you, and you’re in the center of the warmest, snuggliest hug ever.

“Congratulations, you guys,” Someone says.

“Happy Twelfth Perigee’s Eve indeed,” Says another.

“I can’t _believe_ you used my coat,” Uncle John whines, and everyone laughs.

Your name is Sebastian. You are almost three years old, and you are a Prince – so you’ve been told – and you’re pretty sure that whatever waits for you under the giant gaudy tree can’t compare to an embrace from your entire family, and the promise of a new member in the future.

Except if someone got you a sword. That’d be fucking sweet, as Papa would say. Watch your mouth, as Mama would say.

**Author's Note:**

> Happiest of Holidays to you all! Whether you're revving up for Hanukkah, trimming the Christmas tree, planning your New Year's Eve, figuring out what you'll be doing for your 'insert winter holiday that I don't know the name of here', or just plain don't give a damn, I hope you enjoy this season and all the fun and joy it brings. This year I give to you a little ficlet to tide you over until what should be the final major installment in Forgestuck begins in the spring. Believe me, I wish it could start sooner, but with trying to write original work and a lengthy fic at once...well, it's tough, and I need to balance the two out.
> 
> Thank you for another wonderful year and all the support you've given me in reading Forgestuck! Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I couldn't ever properly express how grateful I am!


End file.
